


Silence is the most powerful scream...

by OfRooksandOrchids



Category: Le Silence de La Mer (2004)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfRooksandOrchids/pseuds/OfRooksandOrchids
Summary: What might have happened if Jeanne had been compelled to care for a seriously ill Werner? Could she have allowed him to suffer alone, or would she have broken her silence to offer what comfort she could to the man who had slowly but surely won her heart? Would the fear of possibly losing him lead her to confess her feelings?Canon-divergent/AU Takes place shortly after Jeanne's encounter with Pascal and before Werner's terrible friends show up.
Relationships: Jeanne Larosière/Werner von Ebrennac
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea for this story when I was feeling under the weather the other week & thought it was too cute not to write. What's more adorable than a clueless pair of lovebirds when one has to take care of the other? Hope all the Jeanne & Werner fans enjoy this one. It's been ages since I attempted a multi-chapter story, so hopefully I haven't lost my touch. I'm going to post a chapter a day cos isn't it nice to have something to look forward to?
> 
> The title for this fic is an anonymous quote that I stumbled upon during a "Oh, damn! What should I call this story?" moment. No idea who to credit for it.

Werner barely registered Franz's bringing his car to a stop outside the Larosière residence. He had woken up that morning feeling terrible, but had forced himself to get out of bed and report for his duty shift. Jeanne and her grandfather seemed to have noticed that he wasn't quite himself, but of course they hadn't commented on it. Franz certainly had, the orderly informing his captain in rather colorful terms that he looked (to put it politely) wretched and ought to see the medical officer straightaway. Werner had brushed the suggestion aside and went about his day, counting the hours until he could drag himself to bed and sleep off whatever malady was afflicting him. How he made it through the day, he would never know. Even the Kommandant had seemed to notice that his favorite staff officer was out-of-sorts. When the clock had struck ten o'clock, Werner had never left his work station in such a hurry in his professional life. He couldn't remember getting into his car, or anything that Franz might have said to him as he helped him put his greatcoat on. The headache he'd woken up with had gotten steadily worse as the day wore on and was now agonizing. He knew he was running a fever and every muscle in his body ached. Add to that a wicked sore throat and pervading sense of weakness and mild nausea, and the result was an absolutely miserable man who wouldn't quibble with a Soviet Red Army soldier's wanting to shoot him dead because at least then he'd find a quick end to his suffering. 

"Captain, sir?" Werner felt a hand on his shoulder gently shaking him. He must have drifted off on the ride home. He blinked up at Franz. His faithful orderly looked very concerned and Werner wanted to reassure him that he was just fine, had just nodded off was all, but his feverish mind couldn't seem to find the words. 

"You're in a right state and no mistake," Franz said, holding out his hand to help Werner out of the vehicle. "Let's get you inside where it's warm. You need to go to bed. You look like hell."

"I feel like it." Werner took Franz's profferred hand and let the older man practically haul him out of the car to his feet. Franz shut the car door and gave his charge a moment to steady himself against the Mercedes. Werner shut his eyes against a world that had suddenly decided to start spinning around at a rather alarming rate. He felt a wave of dizziness overcome him as sound muffled to be replaced by a strange ringing tone in his ears. He fought against it and forced himself to start walking towards the house. He waved off another offer of assistance from Franz, who muttered something about stubborn officers and damn Prussian stoicism. Werner started to say that he was fine, no need to make such a fuss over him, that he'd make it to the service entrance quite well enough on his own, thank you very much, damn mother-hen orderlies.....

He never finished his sentence. 

Before Franz's shocked eyes, Werner pitched forward in a dead faint, his last more or less coherent thought before the blackness of unconsciousness swept him under completely, was that the freshly fallen snow on the ground felt heavenly on his too-hot skin. 

Franz swore and knelt at his captain's side. He felt Werner's pulse and was only mildly relieved to discover that it wasn't as thready as he'd feared. He carefully arranged his stricken captain on his back, shrugging off his own jacket and rolling it into a makeshift pillow that he slipped under Werner's head. He could feel the heat of the younger man's body even through his uniform layers and greatcoat. The poor fellow was burning up. He had to get him inside. Lying on the chilly ground couldn't be good for him. Though Werner was a tall man, he had the slender build of an officer who spent more time indoors behind a desk bent over administrative work than the heavier build of a soldier used to hard fighting in the field. Still, Franz knew he wouldn't be able to carry his unconscious superior into the house and up to his bedroom by himself, not with his bad back. He would need help. He checked Werner quickly. He was out cold. Time to get the girl out here to help him get Werner inside. The old man would be useless.

"I'll be right back, sir," he told Werner, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, not sure if the captain could hear him or not. "I'm going to get Jeanne for you, okay?" 

Franz ran into the house, bursting through the front door. The service entrance could go hang. He bolted into the living room where he found Jeanne and her grandfather, André. They had leapt to their feet at the front door's banging open and the orderly's running footsteps.

"What is the meaning of this, monsieur?" the old gentleman asked, leaning heavily on his cane. Jeanne stood protectively close to her elderly grandfather, her eyes big as saucers.

"Captain von Ebrennac has collapsed." Franz met Jeanne's gaze. "I need your help getting him inside and up to his room, mademoiselle. He's very sick. Has been all day. I'm afraid it could be serious."

"Collapsed?" André echoed. "Shall I, er, shall I call for a doctor?" He glanced at Jeanne. She had uttered a little gasp despite herself and looked frightened. She cared deeply for the German captain, André knew, and he wasn't sure how to cope with the fact. He'd noticed the furtive glances between the two had increased in frequency in the past month. Though he didn't really want to believe it, André was no fool. He knew that they had fallen irrevocably in love. He supposed that, had it happened under better circumstances, during peacetime, he would have been very pleased with Jeanne's choice of gentleman. But to love the enemy? A love like that could destroy a Frenchwoman's reputation in these times.

He was damned if he'd allow that to happen. The German captain had best keep his hands off of his granddaughter. Soldiers in wartime were all the same, no matter how gentlemanly they appeared to be. André himself had been a young soldier once and he well remembered his own amorous exploits. 

"If you know of a doctor who would be willing to treat a German officer, then by all means," Franz was saying as André's mind wandered. "If not, I will call for the regiment's medical officer." To Jeanne, he said, "Forgive my being blunt, mademoiselle, but if you care about Captain von Ebrennac at all, you'll help me see to him." Franz's gruff voice softened. "He needs you now. Help me, please?"

Jeanne took a deep breath and tried to recover her carefully cultivated composure. She felt a twinge of uneasiness upon realizing that Werner's orderly had figured out that her outward indifference to the captain was just a mask to conceal feelings that ran as deep as the ocean that Werner had waxed poetic about. Her mask was slipping, apparently. What did Franz think of her? The orderly was devoted to Werner. He must think her so cruel. Resent her and despise her for the way she treated his superior. To call her out in this fashion? To question her affection for Werner? Should she be angry at him? Affronted? Insulted that he thought her capricious? 

No, you fool, a voice in her head whispered (her conscience, she supposed), you should be absolutely ashamed of yourself for the way you've behaved toward that poor man! What will you do if he's dangerously, fatally ill? Will you leave him to suffer alone, with only his orderly to tend to him and offer what comfort you should be the one giving? 

Something in Jeanne snapped then. She had lost her mother to a serious illness, an outbreak of influenza that had ravaged the village. She imagined Werner as her mother had been in her final hours; delirious with fever, oblivious to her surroundings, not even recognizing her own daughter as Jeanne sat holding her hand, murmuring what words of love and comfort she could between bouts of tears. Losing her mother had left a wound that she knew would never heal, but it was one that she had learned to live with.

The realization hit her then (or was it an epiphany?) like a flash of lightning from out of a clear blue sky. 

If she lost Werner, it would kill her. She would rather die herself than live without him.

Though she'd tried to deny it to herself, she knew the German officer was her soulmate. Had known it from almost the beginning. Was it mere coincidence that he had arrived in her life on her late mother's birthday? It had to have been Fate, bringing together two people who each needed the other desperately. Perhaps it had been her mother's spirit, acting from beyond the veil, sending her daughter someone who would stand steadfast by her side and love Jeanne for all the rest of their lives.

Dear God, how could she have been so stupid, so blind? 

Without further thought or waiting to see what her grandfather's reaction would be, Jeanne bolted for the still-open front door, running faster than she'd ever done in all of her twenty-six years, calling her captain's name.

To be continued.......


	2. Chapter 2

Jeanne nearly slipped in the snow as she ran towards where Werner lay unconscious. Catching herself, she closed the distance between them and fell to her knees beside him. She pressed a hand to his cheek, cringing as she felt how warm he was. Franz hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that Werner was seriously ill. She was terrified. She took one of his gloved hands in hers, held it tightly.

"Werner? It's me. It's Jeanne. I'm here." Cursing herself for having begun to cry, she wiped an impatient hand across her eyes, dashing away the tears. She had to hold it together for him. "Open your eyes for me," she cajoled in a soft voice. "I have so much I want, need, to tell you. I've been so stupid! Come back to me. I need you." She willed him to feel, to sense somehow, her love and her devotion to him. She closed her eyes and sent up a fervent prayer to any higher power that might be listening. "Maman," she breathed, "If you're an angel now, please, please don't let Werner be taken away from me! I love him! I love him more than life, the way you loved Papa. Help us. I've wasted so much time with him already! Be with me! Be with us!" Jeanne lost it then and the tears fell unchecked down her cheeks. She hardly heard Franz crouch beside her. 

"Come on, mademoiselle," he said quietly, "let's get him out of the cold. He'll be okay. He has you to care for him." The orderly smiled at her. He had heard everything she had said. "You two have a great deal to discuss when he's feeling better. And, Mademoiselle Jeanne?" Franz turned serious. "If anyone gives you any trouble regarding your feelings for Captain von Ebrennac, threatens you, either of you, in any way, you come and tell me, and they'll be brought to account." He cleared his throat, a wave of unexpected emotion hitting him. "The captain is like a younger brother to me. I hope you and I can start over and become friends. I've never seen him happier than when he's in your presence. He's been lonely for so long. He's useless on his own. He needs to be looked after. May I say how glad I am that he's found you? You'll be good for him."

Jeanne met Franz's eyes and saw kindness there. She'd been a little afraid of him before, but now she saw a man that she could, and most certainly would, call friend from here on out. She nodded, sniffling. 

"Okay,." Franz moved over to Werner's left side. "Let's get him inside." 

Between them, Franz and Jeanne managed to slowly but surely maneuver Werner into the house and up the stairs to his room, her grandfather ambling along behind them, informing her and Franz that he had called the local doctor, who was willing to come and see what he could do for the unfortunate officer. He would arrive shortly. 

Relieved that help was on the way, Jeanne and Franz settled Werner on the bed, the orderly divesting the captain of his heavy greatcoat and boots while Jeanne stripped off his tunic and scarf before unfastening the first few buttons of Werner's white dress shirt, thinking he'd be able to breathe easier if he wasn't so buttoned-up. Satisfied that he was resting as comfortably as was possible at the moment, Jeanne pressed a kiss to her beloved's forehead before leaving him in Franz's capable hands while she went down to wait for the doctor. She met her grandfather in the foyer. His usually-placid eyes were stormy.

"Jeanne," André began, "Jeanne, what are you thinking? You must-"

"No," she interrupted him harshly, "Don't. Don't tell me that I can't be with him. I tried not to care for him, but I do. Very much. I love him, grand-père. I love him! And I know he loves me. I don't care about anything else. He's a good man. You know he is. Said yourself that first night that he was 'decent,' remember? You also said that you didn't like offending a man even if he was an enemy. He's not an enemy, though. He might be one of their soldiers, but he's no Nazi and bears no ill will toward us or even to France. And don't try to scare me off him by saying that people are going to talk. No one will know because we'll be discreet. All I need to do right now is take care of him. Excuse me, I'm going outside to wait for the doctor." Without waiting for a response from her grandfather, Jeanne turned and walked away, making a detour for the living room to retrieve her cigarettes and lighter from their hiding place. Her grandfather didn't approve of her smoking, considered it unladylike, but it steadied her nerves when times got trying. 

Outside, Jeanne leaned against the front door. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag on it. That was better. A memory leapt unbidden to her mind. She remembered one particular night when she'd been desperate for a cigarette. After her grandfather had retired for the evening, she had crept out to smoke unobserved. 

Or so she had thought.

She smiled to herself now. Oh, she had been observed, all right. Werner had been standing by his bedroom window, gazing out at the night and he had caught her in the act. She recalled his bemused expression. Had he been amused at catching her out, or had he been embarrassed to be caught watching her? He did have a bashful streak sometimes, a sweet shyness. She would have to ask him which it was. 

There was so very much for them to talk about, so many conversations to have, so many questions to ask and answer. 

So much wasted time to make up for! She suspected that when they started talking, they'd be hard-pressed to stop. 

Jeanne was pulled from her musings by the sound of an approaching vehicle. It was the local physician, Dr. Viannet. She was only mildly surprised that he had answered her grandfather's summons. Jean-Michel Viannet and her grandfather went way back, had been friends for years. She waved at him as he brought the car to a stop and stepped out, medical bag in hand and hat askew. "Bon soir, Doctor." She tossed her cigarette into the snow.

"Bon soir, Jeanne." Viannet was a robust gentleman in his late sixties and one of those rare men who could pass for a decade younger than they actually were. He was quite popular with the older war widows on the prowl for their next husband. He lived with his daughter-in-law (his son was in North Africa fighting with the British) in a modest house in the village center which they shared with a German soldier of their own, a young lieutenant that the daughter-in-law was rumored to be having an affair with.

At least I'm not the only woman who'll be fraternizing, Jeanne thought with some amusement. The lieutenant was one of Werner's men. She recalled him as one of the junior officers who she had seen him in company with outside the Kommandant's headquarters on a few occasions. 

"Didn't think I'd be out this time of night seeing to any patients," Viannet was saying as Jeanne led him into the house. "Your grandfather tells me that your houseguest has taken ill. I'm a little surprised that his orderly didn't call for their own medical officer."

Jeanne shrugged. "My grandfather stepped in before Franz, that's the orderly, could do so. Knowing my grandfather, it was a calculated move to avoid having any more Germans under his roof than strictly necessary."

Viannet huffed a laugh. "No doubt." He caught sight of the man in question. "André! Good evening, my friend!"

André greeted Viannet affectionately. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, but, well," he gestured meaninglessly. "Can't have any of their officers dying in our care, can we? We might be shot! Hehe."

Jeanne rolled her eyes. Her grandfather's sense of humor never quite hit the mark, bless him. "Captain von Ebrennac is upstairs in the master bedroom. The door on your left," she informed Viannet. "His orderly is with him. He's waiting for you." 

With a nod, Viannet set off to see to his patient, leaving Jeanne and her grandfather alone downstairs. It was all Jeanne could do to stop herself following the good doctor upstairs to sit by Werner's bedside holding his hand while Viannet tried to figure out what was ailing her poor captain. It nearly physically pained her not to be by his side when he needed her.

"Jeanne," André said, dragging his granddaughter's attention back to the moment, "We will be talking about this. Maybe not tonight, but we will be having a discussion about this.... situation."

Situation! Jeanne was too preoccupied with Werner's health to bother rising to her grandfather's bait. "We will," she agreed, if only to avoid an argument. "We'll all three of us talk about it when Werner is feeling better." Maybe she would do something she hadn't planned on ever doing then: tell her grandfather about what Pascal had tried to do to her and that Werner's timely arrival had been the only thing that saved her from a woman's worst nightmare. He would see Werner as a hero, wouldn't he? And respect that the officer had not lashed out and done anything to her cousin, but had allowed Jeanne to handle the aftermath in her own way. 

Seeing Jeanne was clearly not in the mood to hear anything sensible, André gave up. Silently, they retreated to the living room where Jeanne sat down to watch the fire, lost in her own thoughts while her grandfather pretended to read his newspaper. Both lost track of time and neither could say how long it was before Viannet and Franz appeared in the living room doorway. 

"How is the captain?" Jeanne asked, keeping her tone one of polite interest so as not to betray her feelings in front of the doctor. She would need to perfect that skill in future. So would Werner. 

"He's awake now," Viannet replied, "It's influenza, which seems to be making its way through the village like wildfire this winter. It's a virulent strain, and Captain von Ebrennac is also suffering from exhaustion brought about by long hours and difficulty sleeping, according to him. The debilitating headache is the result of dehydration and his forgetting to eat when he should. I have the impression that the captain is not very good at taking care of himself. Typical young bachelor." In the corner, Franz tried and failed to stifle a snort, confirming the doctor's surmises. "I would suggest," Viannet continued, addressing Franz now, "that Captain von Ebrennac be relieved of duty and confined to quarters, as it were, for at least the next week, if not two. He's very rundown. If he pushes himself, I won't answer for the consequences. He needs bed rest, sleep, and no undue stress or exertion." 

"Jawohl, Herr Doktor," Franz acknowledged. The orderly knew the Kommandant would concur. He'd overheard the man informing Werner earlier in the week that he drove himself too hard, would "work himself into an early grave and save the Allies the trouble," if he wasn't careful. 

Best not tell Jeanne that last bit. For her own part, Jeanne was inwardly fretting over whether Werner's trouble sleeping had anything to do with her. Had she upset him more than she'd thought with her silence and avoidance? It killed her to think she might be in any way responsible for his present condition. In future, she would make it her mission to take the best possible care of him and teach him better habits. 

"In the meantime," Viannet continued, "Keep an eye on him. His fever is still higher than I'd like, but I think he's out of danger. If his fever does spike too high, or if he has any trouble breathing, call for me or your medical officer at once. Do not wait! I've left some medicine for him and I trust that he'll be looked after?" Viannet looked at Jeanne. 

"I'll look in on him from time to time," she said airily, her voice conveying an unspoken "If I can be bothered to." Which of course she could! 

Viannet nodded. "Right, then. I'll leave him in what capable hands are available. I'll see myself out. Goodnight, everyone."

"Thank you for coming, Doctor," Jeanne said. "Much appreciated." 

After Viannet left, Jeanne and her grandfather looked at each other, Franz seemingly fascinated by a corner of the ceiling. André broke the silence. "I'm going to bed," he declared. "I don't need to ask which one of you will be looking after Captain von Ebrennac. Remember what I said, Jeanne. Goodnight." With a disgruntled mumble, André took his leave. 

Jeanne sighed. Shaking her head, she said, "I think it's going to take him a while to accept my feelings for Werner."

Franz gave her a sympathetic look. "It's a lot for anyone to accept in the present climate. He'll come around. He's just trying to protect you. People can be vicious.Trust in your love for the captain and his for you, Mademoiselle Jeanne. Things will work out. Take it from a married man."

With a grateful smile, Jeanne sent Franz off to his bed in the adjoining outbuilding, the orderly looking done in. She would take care of Werner herself. She headed into the kitchen to make him tea, shaking her head when she realized that she had no idea how he liked his tea, if he liked it at all. She'd do her best.

Cup and saucer in hand a short time later, she ascended the stairs to her love's room. 

For the first time since he'd arrived, Werner wouldn't be spending his night cold and alone.

To be continued......


	3. Chapter 3

Werner was just drifting off when he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door. Franz, no doubt, returning to fuss over him like some ridiculous nursemaid. Maybe if he ignored the knocking, Franz would assume that he'd fallen asleep and leave him be until the morning. He felt miserable and just wanted to be left alone. How he'd managed to come down with influenza was beyond him. He couldn't remember being around anyone who was sick, but the French physician had said that the illness was rampant in the village. He supposed he could have picked it up anywhere. Just his luck. When the Kommandant heard about his condition, the man wouldn't hesitate to relieve him of duty and confine him to the Larosière house until such time as he'd improved to the medical officer's liking. 

Which would be difficult on the old man and Jeanne, to have to put up with a seriously ill man that both likely had no desire to have to deal with, but that they would deal with only because they were good, kind, and decent people.

Damn his luck. Damn his life. Just damn it all! 

Another soft knock. "Oh, for God's sake," Werner muttered in frustration. Louder, he called out, "Go away, Franz! That's an order! Let me die in peace!" He fought the very real urge to put his pillow over his head in case the orderly decided to get more obnoxious and continue knocking, making his headache worse. He knew his orderly felt a brotherly affection for him and he was fond of Franz, too. Just not at this precise moment. 

The door opened and quiet footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor. "I'm afraid I can't let you 'die in peace.' That would break my heart," Jeanne said, stepping to his bedside and setting the steaming cup of tea on Werner's nightstand. 

Werner opened his eyes and stared up at her, dumbstruck. The doctor hadn't said anything about hallucinations being a symptom of influenza, but that was clearly the only viable explanation for Jeanne's being in his room, with him actually in it this time, and talking to him in a way that suggested that she cared about him, though he did have a vague not-quite memory of hearing her voice while he was floating in the murky waters of consciousness and unconsciousness earlier that evening when he'd fainted in the snow. He had imagined hearing an extremely emotional Jeanne crying over him and imploring Heaven not to take him from her. 

His heart constricted in a way that he knew had nothing to do with his illness. He had imagined, too, that he had heard her say that she loved him. 

That couldn't have been real as much as he wished it were. 

And dear God, how he wished it were! 

Werner closed his eyes, counted to ten. When he opened them again, Jeanne would be gone, never having been there to begin with. He would wake up from a fitful sleep, alone, cold, and feeling awful both physically and emotionally. What a horrible joke his life had become. If God existed, He truly must hate him to torment him like this.

Summoning up that "damned Prussian stoicism" that Franz liked to tease him about, Werner opened his eyes.

Oh, God!

Jeanne was still standing there, her expression a mixture of bemusement and desperate worry. "I'm really here," she told him, as if she'd read his mind. "You must be shocked to see me." She looked away from him for a second or two, clearly struggling with her emotions. Her voice sounded to Werner as if it were on the verge of breaking. "I am so sorry!" she cried passionately. "I have been unforgivably cruel to you the entire time you've been here! I'll understand completely if you tell me that I'm too late in making things right between us." She started to cry then, not bothering to hide it from him. "I was so, so afraid when Franz burst in saying that you were ill, had collapsed! I was sick at the thought that I could lose you. That you could die believing that I felt nothing for you but hatred and disdain! I saw you lying there and something in me just-" she stopped, fighting back a sob before barreling on, "Oh, God, Werner! I love you! I love you! You have no idea how much! I can't live this way anymore! I can't stand the silence between us. It's killing me having to hide how I feel, killing me to know that I'm hurting you! I see the agony in your eyes every time you look at me, or try to start a conversation and I rebuff you!" She brushed the tears from her cheeks. "I love you and I.....And.....I can't live without you. You're the other half of my soul. I think I knew it from the very first night. I-"

Werner reached out and took her hand, cutting her off. It tugged at his heart to see her so overwrought. "Jeanne," he murmured, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him, "Please don't cry. Come here. Sit with me." He shifted a bit on the bed, attempting to sit up and make room for her before a rushing wave of dizziness put paid to that idea. She saw him falter and put her hands on his shoulders forcing him to lie back down. She pulled one of the room's nearby chairs close to his bedside and settled herself in it, close enough that she could touch him, hold his hand.

"Rest, love," she said, interlacing their fingers and kissing the back of his hand. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I must be dreaming." Werner smiled that sweet, boyish smile that had long ago won her heart. "To hear you tell me that you love me..... I'm half-afraid that it's just my imagination, the fever making me hear things. That none of this is real." 

"No," Jeanne replied, a tender smile on her lips as she reached out to stroke his hair with her other hand. "I'm real. My feelings are real. I love you, Werner von Ebrennac. I love you. Heart, mind, body, and soul. Nothing could be more real." 

"I love you, too." He huffed a weak laugh. "If I weren't so sick, I'd pull you into my arms and kiss you senseless. I wouldn't wish this plague on anyone, though, so it'll have to wait until I'm back on my feet. If you were to get sick, too, who would look after me? You're saving me from Franz's tender mercies." 

Jeanne laughed before turning pensive. "He's a good man. I like him. I used to be intimidated by him, but tonight..... He's been my rock. He kept me from having a breakdown. I was so afraid of losing you. My mother died of influenza when I was seventeen. I felt like I was reliving it all over again." 

"You won't lose me," Werner promised, his heart going out to her. Had she really been that frightened for him? "I'll be fine in a few days, maybe a week. It's my own fault that I'm sick. I push myself too hard. Always have. I'm not the best at taking care of myself." 

"Good thing that's my job now," Jeanne informed him. "You're going to learn better habits, my dear captain. I can't do anything about your work hours, but I can make sure that you eat and drink enough. No more of this taking your meals at headquarters. I can only imagine what passes for food there. And your trouble sleeping? The doctor told us that you mentioned not sleeping well. Why, love?" A twinge of guilt shot through Jeanne. "Is it anything to do with me? I've never meant to hurt you. You must know that!"

Werner brought her hand to his cheek, nuzzled it affectionately. "Of course I know that! I've never thought you cruel, dearest Jeanne. I understand why you and your grandfather conducted yourselves the way you did. And that doesn't matter now. We love each other. That's all that matters. My insomnia....Well. There's a lot on my mind sometimes that keeps me up nights, that's all. Comes with being a military man in wartime."

Jeanne hmm-ed, not completely convinced, but she'd let it go for now, along with mentioning her grandfather's disapproval of their being together. Werner was in no fit state to be needlessly distressed. She reached over to the nightstand and handed Werner the cup of tea, helping him to sit up enough to drink it. "I brought you this. Should have cooled off enough to not be scalding. I had no idea how you liked your tea, so I just added a bit of milk. Drink it slowly. It's important you keep fluids down."

"Merci, my love." Werner took a sip. "It's perfect. I'm usually the one at headquarters drinking coffee all day long."

Jeanne rolled her eyes in mock consternation. "And now I know why this man doesn't sleep at night! What am I going to do with you?" 

"That's an easy question to answer," Werner said, cradling his teacup in his hands, enjoying the warmth emanating from it. "Love me. Save me from myself. Encourage me to slow down and relax. Teach me to enjoy life again." He smiled, his eyes lighting up as he added, "Oh, and play Bach for me every night." 

"I can do all of those things." They sat in companionable silence then, a silence so much more pleasant than the one that had existed between them before. Werner finished his tea and set the cup back on his nightstand. He was absolutely exhausted. He sank back against his pillows, drained of all energy. Their emotional unburdening had drained him. 

"You should get some sleep now," Jeanne said. She felt his forehead and frowned slightly. He was still quite feverish. "I don't like how warm you are, though. I think I know something that'll help. I'll be right back." She rose, picking up the cup and saucer before leaving his room. 

A quick trip to the kitchen later, Jeanne returned carrying a bowl of cool water and a soft cloth. She set both items on the nightstand and sat on the bed beside her worn-out captain. As though it was the most natural thing in the world, Jeanne unbuttoned Werner's shirt, encouraging him to shrug it off. He arched an eyebrow at her as he complied. "So forward, mademoiselle!" he teased. "It's rather unfair to try and seduce a man when he's too ill to resist!" Werner's blue eyes sparkled with mischievous amusement. "Especially when he's a man in love!" 

"Behave yourself, mein Herr. I'm just trying to bring your fever down. You were practically melting the snow when Franz and I brought you inside. It's a wonder you weren't delirious when Dr. Viannet got here. Now lie down and let me take care of you." Jeanne hung his shirt over the back of a chair and took up the water. She dipped the cloth into it, wrung out the excess and gently bathed Werner's forehead, face, and neck. She smiled at the little sigh of relief he made. 

"That feels nice," he murmured. Werner couldn't remember the last time that anyone had taken care of him when he was ill or upset or under a lot of stress. He had forgotten just how good it felt to be soothed by someone who loved him, how comforting. 

"It's supposed to," Jeanne whispered. She dipped the cloth again and Werner couldn't suppress a soft moan of pleasure as she bathed his collarbone and chest. The coolness felt so wonderful on his hot skin. His headache was easing and he felt himself drifting off under Jeanne's healing hands. 

Seeing that her beloved was very nearly asleep, Jeanne finished her ministrations, pleased that she had brought Werner some respite from his misery. A touch to his forehead reassured her. He felt a little less feverish. Good. Hopefully he would continue to improve. Ideally, his fever would break by morning. Satisfied that she had done everything she could for him at the moment, Jeanne got up and went downstairs again. She filled a glass of water in case Werner woke thirsty during the night. She stopped in the living room to get the book she'd been reading, then turned off the lights downstairs. Returning to Werner's room, she set the glass on the nightstand and covered her now-sleeping man with a light blanket. She kissed his cheek and settled back in her chair. Opening her book, she read for an hour or so, before she couldn't keep her own eyes open. It was well after midnight. She fell asleep to the sound of Werner's soft breathing, dreaming of the nights when she would sleep wrapped up in his arms, safe and cherished. 

To be continued......


	4. Chapter 4

Jeanne awoke with the sun the next morning. She was exhausted, but couldn't bring herself to mind. Poor Werner had passed a fitful night. He'd developed a rasping cough and fits of the chills. He had apologized profusely for keeping her from her bed, insisting that he would manage just fine if she left his side to go and get some sleep. She had shushed him, reassuring him that there was no place she'd rather be, that she wouldn't leave him to suffer alone, reminding him that she loved him just to see his expression of pure joy when he heard her say those three little words. She had slipped into bed beside him, snuggling up to him and warming him with the heat of her lithe body when Werner had been wracked by shivering. She had held him, rubbing his back to soothe his aching muscles, whispering words of affection until he'd eventually gone back to sleep, holding her hand in one of his, clasped to his heart. She had lain there, curled around him, more comfortable than she'd ever been in her life, the rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her into complete relaxation as she kept her vigil over him. 

She didn't plan on sleeping alone again any time soon. It felt so good and so right to share a bed with the man that she loved with an intensity that she supposed should frighten her, but most certainly didn't. Werner was her soulmate. How could she ever have thought otherwise, fought it for so long? As he had said the night before, they loved each other and that was all that mattered; not the war, not the uniform he wore, not her grandfather's opinion on the matter.

That last thought brought Jeanne fully awake. She groaned inwardly. 

Her grandfather. His words still rang in her mind. She hoped he wasn't up and about yet. She really didn't want to hear any lectures or recriminations this morning. A glance at the clock told her it was only a few minutes past seven. She supposed she could wait a bit longer before facing the day. She sighed and cuddled up to Werner's side, her head resting on his bare chest. She could sleep a little longer, surely.

Or not. Someone was knocking on the bedroom door. She groaned again, aloud this time. That was probably Franz come to check on his captain. She got up slowly, careful not to wake Werner. He murmured in his sleep and rolled over onto his side, oblivious to everything, thanks to the medicine she had dosed him with in the small hours when the coughing had become too much for him to bear. 

Sure enough, it was the faithful orderly. He looked much better after the ordeal of the night before and greeted her with a knowing smile, not surprised at all that he'd found her still in Werner's room. "How's the patient this morning?" he asked, peering over her shoulder at the man in question.

"He's sleeping like the dead, which is the best thing for him. He's still running a fever, though it's not as high as it was last night. He's developed a cough and fits of the chills and was complaining of muscle aches. He's in no fit state to show up for duty. You'll have to get a message to your Kommandant. I don't have any piano lessons scheduled today, so I'll look after him. I hate seeing him like this. He tells me he'll be okay on his own, but he's a terrible liar." She looked back at her sleeping beloved, a tender smile on her lips. 

Franz's heart gladdened to hear that Jeanne hadn't left Werner's side all that night. She really did love him. He couldn't resist asking her if the two had confessed their feelings and he smiled like a total fool when she said that yes, they had. Satisfied that Werner looked to be out of danger and resting in Jeanne's devoted care, the orderly headed out for the day. He'd inform the Kommandant of Werner's condition and since the captain had no immediate need of him, Franz would likely be given other duties for the time being. He bid Jeanne a good day and ambled off.

Jeanne went to her room then and changed her clothes before making her morning ablutions. A glance down the hall showed her that her grandfather's door was still shut. He probably wasn't up yet (hopefully). That should give her time enough to go down to the kitchen and brew some coffee and find something to eat before she returned to Werner's bedside.

The Gods clearly didn't like her this morning. First Franz breaking her peaceful interlude in bed with her love and now her irascible old grand-père was waiting in the kitchen for her. André was sat at the table, a cup of coffee in front of him that was likely going cold from the chill that permeated the room's atmosphere; a chill that couldn't be blamed on the winter morning.

Mon Dieu. Really?

"Good morning." Jeanne forced her voice to come out in exactly the same cheerful tone it did every morning upon seeing her grandfather. 

"You weren't in your room last night," André said without preamble. 

And so it began, then. "No. I spent the night at Werner's bedside." She was damned if she'd add that she'd eventually ended up in bed with the German officer even if it had been completely innocent. Her grandfather would have a stroke. "He had a very rough night. His fever has gone down somewhat, thank God, but he's got a cough now and fits of shivering. He-"

"And why is his orderly not here looking after his officer? Is that not his duty?" André interrupted. "Does the German Wehrmacht expect the local women in occupied territories to become nursemaids when their soldiers take ill?" 

Jeanne stood staring at her grandfather. She was taken aback at his harsh tone, the venom behind his words. She hadn't realized that he disliked Werner to such an extent. What was this? Where was this coming from? This wasn't like her grandfather at all. She decided to call him out. She didn't have the patience to deal with this. She wasn't going to stand there and be scolded for taking care of someone that she loved. How could that possibly be wrong?

"Do you hear yourself, grand-père?" she asked in as calm and collected a tone as she could manage. "I don't think I've ever heard you say such callous things. Not in my entire life. What's gotten into you? I had no idea that you despised Werner so much. Yes, you chose not to speak to him, but we're both guilty of that. You were concerned about offending him, remember? Now it seems that you couldn't care less if that's exactly what you do! I don't understand."

"I'm concerned about your reputation, Jeanne. Very concerned."

"My reputation," Jeanne repeated, incredulous. "My reputation is in absolutely no danger! I love Werner and he loves me. He would never do anything to bring shame upon me because I choose to be with him. What, do you think he's like some men who are merely out to bed a woman and then brag about it to their friends around town? Or do you think he's just toying with me? Leading me on? A sophisticated Prussian nobleman who's having a bit of fun with a silly little village twit? You are beyond wrong if that's what you think. My God, grand-père! You've seen him with me. You know he's not like that! Last night, when I told him that I loved him for the first time, Werner was nearly in tears he was that overcome! He looked like every dream he'd ever had had finally come true. He was so happy to know that I didn't despise him." Jeanne threw up her hands. "How could I possibly ask for a better man than Werner von Ebrennac? He's the sweetest, gentlest man that I've ever met and I adore him. But, if you think that he's a cur like so many men in this village, there's no reason for me to waste my breath trying to change your mind, try to convince you that he's the best of men." With that, Jeanne spun on her heel and made to leave the kitchen to go back to her captain's bedside. 

"That's not what Pascal says." André's voice stopped her dead in her tracks, a pit forming in her stomach at the sound of that hated name.

Jeanne turned around and let out a hollow, mirthless laugh. "Pascal? Pascal has been disparaging Werner to you? Oh, it all makes a disgusting sort of sense now! Would you like to talk about Pascal? Let's do that. Let's talk about what my pig of a so-called 'cousin' tried to do to me!" She was shouting now, but damn it if she cared. She was incensed that a would-be rapist had been going around telling malicious tales about her gentlemanly captain. "Pascal tried to rape me, grand-père! The day after Christmas when I came back from the fishmonger's. I rejected an invitation to a dance from him. He suspected that my heart belonged to someone else and he was enraged and crazed with jealousy. He lost it. He attacked me. He tried to force himself on me. I fought like a wild thing, but he's bigger than I am. He would have raped me right there in the damned entryway if Werner hadn't come home when he did. He heard my screaming and burst in like an avenging angel! Pascal just laughed as he let go of me. Said he got the picture. That bastard figured out that I'm in love with Werner and now he's doing everything to discredit him to you, apparently! What a joke! Pascal is very, very lucky that Werner isn't an SS man. He would have killed him, shot him then and there like a dog. As it was, I think he really, really wanted to. So don't sit there and act like what Pascal says is gospel truth. I know you've always liked him, but you have him all wrong! He's a liar and a pervert. He's always been obsessed with me. Why do you think I have as little to do with him as possible? His best friend has designs on me, too." 

André looked like he was about to fall over onto the flagstone floor. "Pascal tried to rape you?" he whispered, face ashen.

"Yes!" Jeanne yelled. "Don't you remember coming in and seeing that I was upset? You asked me what had happened. I was in shock. I said that it was nothing. I felt so violated and embarrassed! You should have seen the pain in Werner's eyes, grand-père. He was beside himself. He stood on the stairs gazing down at me and I think he was berating himself for not being there to protect me. I wanted to speak to him then, but he hurried to his room and slammed his door hard enough to shake the walls." She took a deep breath, trying to get herself back under control. Her heart was pounding and her hands were trembling. "What version of events did Pascal give you? Whatever he said was a lie." 

André hardly knew what to say or where to look, so horrified was he by Jeanne's revelation. He knew his granddaughter was telling him the truth. She wouldn't, couldn't, make up something so heinous. "Pascal came to me and warned me that Captain von Ebrennac was intent on seducing you into his bed. He claimed to have heard him chatting with his fellow officers outside their headquarters, plotting his amorous conquest. Pascal said that I should keep him as far away from you as possible. He went so far as to suggest that I approach the Kommandant about having him moved to another residence. According to him, Captain von Ebrennac was the threat to your virtue. I never realized that things were so charged between you and Pascal. That you were that apprehensive of him."

"I've always known exactly what it is that Pascal wants from me," Jeanne stated flatly. "I've seen it in his eyes, seen it when he leers at me when he thinks I'm not paying attention. I'm a pretty piece of meat to him, that's it. He doesn't care about me as a person. The minute he'd had me, he would throw me aside like a whore in the gutter. Why didn't you tell me what he was saying? I could have told you what utter nonsense it all was. Werner is not out to seduce me for a good time. Pascal is jealous. He's mad with envy that I desire another man in a way that I will never, ever desire him. That envy has made him vicious. I'm still afraid of him, grand-père, but I know that Werner will protect me. If Pascal comes near me again, I will let Werner use all the power at his command to deal with him. I don't care if he gives him to the Gestapo on made-up charges. That's how vile Pascal is. He deserves the worst." 

André stared into his coffee mug, taking in all that Jeanne had said. Dear God. He felt like an old ass for believing Pascal. He had known for years that the young man had a fascination for Jeanne, but to think that he had attacked her in her own house? And then told him, André, such boldfaced and slanderous lies about Captain von Ebrennac? It was almost too much to take in. "I'm so sorry, ma petite. I had no idea. Oh, mon Dieu." 

"I don't mean to hurt you, grand-père, but you should be sorry. At least a little. How could you believe Pascal when you yourself have seen time and again just what a good man Werner is? You're old enough to know better. You should have been honest with me. And, yes, I should have been honest with you when it happened. Thank God you didn't take Pascal up on going to the Kommandant. Do you understand what harm you could have done to Werner? The consequences for insinuating to his commanding officer that he was a lecherous predator out to steal a lady's virtue? If you had repeated Pascal's lies, Werner's entire life could have been destroyed. You and Pascal would have ruined an innocent man."

André couldn't dispute the veracity of Jeanne's statement. He had no excuse. "You're right," he said simply. "I was taken in by Pascal. He played on my concern for your reputation, tried to manipulate me into destroying Captain von Ebrennac because he was too much of a coward to do it himself. I have been such an old fool. I'm sorry, Jeanne. Truly."

"I know."

"But that doesn't change the fact that I am still concerned about your reputation. If it were to become public that you and the captain were together, the entire village would shun you. Say horrible things about you. And about him. It could be dangerous for you both. Are you and he willing to take that risk?"

A quiet, tired voice from the kitchen doorway answered before Jeanne could. "Yes, monsieur. Without hesitation." Werner was standing there, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He was clad in dark blue pyjamas and a black dressing gown that he'd donned before making his way downstairs, his feet bare. The dark colors brought out his pallor and the circles under his eyes. He smiled wanly at her as Jeanne hurried to his side. 

"You should be in bed!" she scolded him. "Look at you! You can barely stand. What were-?" 

"I heard raised voices," Werner said gently, cutting her off before she could lecture him any further. "I wasn't sure who you were arguing with. I was afraid that that young man, Pascal, had returned. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you and your grandfather." He smiled apologetically at André. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, either, sir. I only just made it down here. The stairs were quite a challenge to navigate in my condition," he added self-deprecatingly. "I think I know now how boats on rough seas must feel." 

Jeanne laughed in spite of herself. "You ridiculous man." Then, in a more serious tone, "How much did you hear?" She hoped he'd missed the part about Pascal wanting to slander his good name to the Kommandant. That would upset him terribly. His honor was sacred to him, she knew. 

Werner shook his head. "Not much. Just the last bit about Pascal's attempted manipulation, his projecting his own sins on to me, and your grandfather asking if you and I are willing to risk the hostility of your neighbors to be together. I already gave him my answer. Yes. Absolutely."

Jeanne embraced him then, her arms wrapping around his waist. She rested her head on his chest, her eyes on her grandfather as she said, "And I give mine: without hesitation. I will risk Hell itself to love this man," she told André. She drew strength from Werner's arms around her. "If no one beyond the three of us and Franz know that Werner and I are together, everything will be all right. Discretion is our most trusted ally." 

"What about Pascal?" André had to ask. "What if he doesn't give up so easily? What then?"

"I'll say that he's a jealous bastard that spews vitriol to cover up his failure with women if he continues spreading his nonsense," Jeanne replied. She felt Werner huff a laugh that became a cough at her colorful language. "Or I'll set Franz on him. He seems to think he's my big brother now," she told Werner with a wry smile. 

"Pascal would regret his actions in a hurry if he met Franz in a dark alley," Werner confirmed. "Franz has a protective streak if he takes a liking to you. He's one of the most loyal men I've ever known when it comes to his friends. Between him and I, monsieur, nothing will happen to Jeanne. I swear it on my honor." He looked down at Jeanne, held her tighter. "I'm planning on spending the rest of my life with her." 

"Which might not be much longer if you don't get back to bed," Jeanne chided in an attempt not to cry happy tears over Werner's romantic declaration in front of her grandfather. "You're still very ill. You need to rest. Come on, captain. That's an order."

"Jawohl, fraulein!" Werner met André's gaze and the two men seemed to reach a silent understanding. 

"Very well, then, if you're both sure," said André, rising from his seat. "You have my blessing. Oh, and Captain von Ebrennac? I would like to take this opportunity to ask your forgiveness for my previous treatment of you. I never meant to offend or insult you with my silence. These are difficult times, not that that's any excuse." 

Werner shook his head. "There is nothing to forgive, monsieur, but thank you all the same."

André nodded. "Well, I think I'll leave you two alone now. My granddaughter is right, captain. You should be in bed. Go and rest. You couldn't ask for a more affectionate nursemaid." So saying, André took his leave.

"Right, then," Jeanne said, steering Werner back towards the stairs, "back to bed with you. You're going to get some sleep, mein Herr, and I think I'm going to join you. I'm exhausted, and lying in bed curled up next to you sounds too lovely to resist." 

"Anything you want, my heart. Though, don't blame me if you catch influenza." 

Jeanne shrugged as they slowly made their way upstairs, Werner slightly unsteady on his feet. "If I do, I'll have you to take care of me." 

"Always." 

To be continued......


	5. Chapter 5

Werner had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head had hit his pillow. Jeanne had given him a proper piece of her mind for jeopardizing his recovery on their way upstairs. Hadn't he any sense of self-preservation? Did he not remember passing out in the driveway the previous night, giving her the scare of her life? Hadn't he been listening when the doctor no doubt told him to stay in bed and not overexert himself? Didn't he know he was white as a sheet and weak as kitten? He'd thought her protectiveness was absolutely adorable and been hard-pressed not to smile. It humbled him beyond words that she loved him that much. He could only hope that he proved himself worthy of her. She was everything that he had ever dreamed of in a lifelong companion: intelligent, compassionate, talented, self-assured, steadfast, the list went on endlessly. He truly was the most fortunate of men. 

The pair slept well into the afternoon. It was close to three when Jeanne opened her eyes. She smiled contentedly at the man resting beside her. How had she gotten so lucky? Only now, with their feelings finally out in the open, secure in the knowledge that Werner loved her with everything he was, did she realize just how lonely she had been. She hadn't consciously registered it. She had assumed the role of head of household and breadwinner after her mother had passed. It was down to her to run the house and support herself and her grandfather, whose meager pension didn't provide nearly enough in the best of times. After she had finished school, with any hope of a higher education a faraway pipedream, she had started giving piano lessons to the local kids and the rare adult who wanted to learn. She was busy from sunup to sundown. She had no time for herself and nothing that was just hers, unless she counted her music. 

Which she loved, but music couldn't keep you warm at night. 

But now....She felt a thrill of pure happiness race through her. She had Werner. The mundanity of her existence would be made much more beautiful now that she had this incredible man to look forward to coming home to and spending her time with. She imagined waiting up for him at night, listening for his familiar footsteps as he let himself in after a long duty shift. Maybe she'd wait for him by her piano some nights and play his favorite Bach prelude to greet him as he came in the door. He'd adore that, she knew. No more stilted and painfully awkward attempts at conversation on his part before he disappeared to his room after wishing his hosts a good night. No more of her not being happy to see him after a day spent apart. No more not kissing him goodbye in the morning. No more sleeping alone at night. No more of lives spent devoid of love and comfort for either one of them. 

Those days were over. 

Jeanne stroked her fingers through Werner's hair, her expression tender as she watched him sleep. He looked so much younger when he was sleeping, as if all the cares of his waking life didn't exist to weigh upon him. She shook her head inwardly. It had struck her that she actually didn't know how old Werner was, and she couldn't stop a chuckle escaping at the simple truth. There was so much she didn't know about him! Lord, she was ridiculous for keeping the silence between them for so long! 

"What are you laughing at?" Werner's soft blue eyes blinked open and he regarded her with a fond little smile. He wouldn't ever not think that he was living in a dream when he awoke to find her lying beside him, not if they both lived to ripe old ages. He had never been happier in his life. 

"I was thinking how beautiful you look when you're asleep and dreaming," Jeanne replied. "You look like you haven't a care in the world. You look adorably boyish." She played with a button on his pyjama top. "I was laughing at myself for not having any idea how old you are. What woman doesn't know such simple facts about the man she loves?" 

"We had a difficult beginning, my heart. But now," Werner reached out a hand and caressed her cheek. "Now we have all the time in the world to get to know, to discover, each other. And to answer your question, I'm thirty-four."

"Only eight years between us, then." Jeanne curled herself around her captain, her head returning to its new favorite place on his shoulder. "Did you know that you arrived here on the night of my mother's birthday?" 

"I didn't know that." Werner stifled a cough. "My God, no wonder you were so cold when you showed me to my room! That must have been so hard for you to bear. I'm so sorry, my darling." 

"Don't be! I was thinking last night that maybe it wasn't a coincidence that you came here when you did. You're going to think I'm crazy when I say this, but I wondered last night if it was my mother, her spirit, I mean, who led you here to me. Maybe she sent you because the dead can see what the living can't. Maybe she's our guardian angel and she sent you to me because she knew that we were meant to be together. That you would love me and take care of me and I was meant to do the same for you." 

"That doesn't sound crazy at all. It's quite beautiful, in fact," Werner murmured. "I like that possibility." 

"Me, too." 

"Ask me something else," Werner invited. "It distracts me from how terrible I feel." 

Jeanne thought for a moment. Did she dare? "Who's Greta?" she ventured in a small voice.

"Aha! I knew that was coming! She's not anyone you need to worry about. I promise."

Jeanne raised herself up just enough to meet Werner's gaze. "Are you sure about that, mein Herr? Consider your answer very carefully. Because I can't stand the idea of you with another woman. It would break my heart."

"Oh, sweetheart! Greta is a woman that my mother very much wanted me to marry. Her family was close to mine and my mother and hers more or less decided on an arranged marriage between us, as dreadfully archaic as that sounds. Greta always had a fondness for me and I liked her well enough, but," Werner shrugged as best he could whilst lying down with Jeanne on top of him. "I never loved her or desired her. Not the way I do with you. You're the other half of my soul, dearest Jeanne. There is no other woman in my heart or thoughts and there never will be. That letter and photograph you found, and I know you did find them, were consigned to the fireplace. I wrote to her and informed her in no uncertain terms that I was in love with someone else and that there was no future for us. I'm sure her mother has already found her another impoverished Prussian nobleman to chase after. You've nothing to fear from Greta."

"I'm glad." Jeanne settled against him again and then it hit her. 'Wait. You knew that I was in your room? Oh, mon Dieu. Werner, I am so sorry, love! I shouldn't have been. It was wrong of-"

"It's all right! I wasn't angry then and I'm not angry now. I am curious, though. Why do think I was waiting for you outside the fisherman's hut the next day? I was hoping we'd finally start to talk."

Jeanne could feel her cheeks heating up in a blush that she wished she could blame on influenza. Best be honest. She owed him that. "I wanted to feel close to you," she said simply. "I knew that night beyond all doubt that I loved you. I was cold and lonely and I wished I hadn't let you go out to the Kommandant's Christmas gathering. I should have kept you here. I should have been in your arms that night."

"Oh, Jeanne."

"I fell asleep right here in this bed, imagining holding you," she continued, unwilling to keep anything else from him. "I only woke up when I heard your car. I stuffed Greta's letter and photograph back in their envelope and ran back to my room. I heard you come upstairs and my heart was pounding so fast! I heard you outside my bedroom door and I nearly fainted when I heard you turn the doorknob."

Werner closed his eyes in mortification. He'd forgotten that he had tried the lock on her door. "I shouldn't have tried to open your bedroom door. That was ungentlemanly and inappropriate of me. I'm sorry. If your door hadn't been locked and I had burst in..... I'm so sorry. I was out of line. I have no excuse. I was cold and lonely, too. It was Christmas Eve and I just wanted, needed, comfort." 

"Don't apologize. I wish you had come in," Jeanne admitted without shame. She met his eyes again. "If you had come in, I wouldn't have pushed you away. I wouldn't have said no to you." Her meaning was crystal clear.

Werner drew her into his arms then. "What fools we two are! But that doesn't matter anymore. We're here in each other's arms where we belong. It sounds ridiculous and I'm obviously still fever-addled, but I'm glad I contracted this hellish illness. If I hadn't, we might not have opened up to each other. My beautiful mademoiselle silencieuse might have kept her words to herself and I wouldn't be as incandescently happy as I am right now." 

Tears stung the corners of Jeanne's eyes. "I love you. I'm not going to let a single day go by without telling you that. You're going to get tired of hearing me say it."

"Impossible!" 

"I love you."

"Tell me again."

"I love you, Werner von Ebrennac. And when you're feeling better, I'm going to show you just how passionately I adore you." Jeanne's eyes were smouldering. 

"I'd best recover quickly, then," Werner mused, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You'd best." Jeanne stroked his face, running her fingers over his cheekbones and tracing his lips. "I have to kiss you now." 

"As much as I'd enjoy it, I feel it's incumbent upon me as an officer and a gentleman to remind you that I'm probably extremely contagious and that your grandfather wouldn't be pleased to find himself suddenly thrust into the role of nursemaid to a pair of sick and pathetic lovebirds." Werner said solemnly, though his eyes were alight with mischief. 

"I'll risk it." Jeanne closed the distance between them and captured her captain's lips in the softest, most tender kiss she could bestow. She gloried in the sensation of him kissing her back, one of his hands tangling in her hair, the other holding her body to his. His moan of surrender was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. Had he been well, they wouldn't have stopped at just a kiss. The spark between them would have ignited into a conflagration of passion and pleasure.

Something to look forward to.

They parted when the need to breathe reasserted itself. Werner sank back against his pillows, face flushed. "I must be weak," he lamented, "to be so drained of all energy after just a single kiss. Damn this plague!"

Jeanne laughed and smoothed his hair back from his brow. "We've worn you out. I think you need to relax now and see if you can't get a little more sleep. You look so tired, love. Get some rest. It really is the best thing for you. And later on you should try to eat something."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't exhausted," Werner admitted. "Will you stay with me? I rest so much better with you holding me." 

"Of course." She adjusted his pillow for him. "I'm just going to go downstairs and check on my grandfather. Can I bring you anything?"

"Some water, please?"

"Okay. I'll be right back."

Jeanne went downstairs and filled a glass for her poor sick love. She found a note from her grandfather saying that he'd gone to his favorite drinking establishment with Fernand and wouldn't be back until later. She replaced the note on the table, feeling relieved that things had been resolved between the three of them earlier. He'd come to like Werner eventually, Jeanne knew. Maybe someday they'd all be a family. 

Time would tell.

Jeanne returned to Werner's room and found him asleep. She set the water glass on the nightstand and slipped back into bed next to him, covering them both with a warm blanket. Her exhaustion had finally caught up with her, and Jeanne was asleep in no time, blissfully content beside the man she loved. 

...........................

Several days later, Werner was feeling much better, though the medical officer had decreed that he was to be confined to quarters and on bedrest for the next week. The Kommandant didn't want Werner back to work until he was completely recovered in an effort to prevent the spread of illness to the rest of his men. As it was, several of the garrison had fallen victim to the influenza outbreak. Werner couldn't have cared less. He was enjoying being off-duty and at home with Jeanne. They were inseparable. She had her piano lessons, of course, and the odd errand to run, but other than that, they spent their days and nights together, making up for lost time and getting to know everything about one another, talking for hours. They played the piano together and entertained André with their duets. The old man had indeed come around to the captain and Jeanne could just detect her grandfather beginning to feel an affection for the man who so adored and worshipped his granddaughter. He still had his reservations, she knew, but her grandfather trusted her judgement and, at the end of the day, he just wanted to see her happy. If Werner made her happy, then really, who was he to interfere? 

Werner's favorite moments were the evenings in the days after he was well enough to be up and around; evenings when he and Jeanne would sit together by the fire after dinner. They would talk more, or just sit quietly, watching the flames dance on the hearth, exchanging amused glances as André muttered to himself about the rubbish in the day's newspaper. In those moments, Werner felt as if he had well and truly come home. 

And when they were alone together behind closed doors, entwined in each other's arms, skin-to-skin, moving like the waves of the sea upon the shore, making love.....That was heaven on earth. 

The war would end someday, and when it did, however it did, Jeanne and Werner were certain of one thing, the most important thing: they would be together and they were forever. 

...........................

Somewhere in the deepest silence in between the mortal realm and the misty, ethereal plane of the World Between the Worlds, Odette Larosière congratulated herself on a job well done. She could rest easy in eternity with her husband now that her beloved Jeanne was safe and cherished in the arms of her soulmate. 

The earthly plane might be being battered by war and destruction, but in a little village by the seaside, love had conquered all. 

The End.


End file.
